


Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

by Astrophilla, sunshinewinchesters



Series: Destiel Christmas Advent Calendar 2015 [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 25 Days of Christmas, 25 Days of Destiel Christmas, Angst, Big Brother Dean, Brother Feels, Christmas, Destiel Advent Calendar 2015, Guardian Angel Castiel, M/M, Young Winchesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 22:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5392940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astrophilla/pseuds/Astrophilla, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinewinchesters/pseuds/sunshinewinchesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas, and John has left Sam and Dean alone at a motel while he is on a hunt. What they don't know is that a certain angel is watching over them even when their father isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Written by sunshinewinchesters  
> Beta'd by Astrophilla
> 
> Type: Pre-canon AU, Dean is ten and Sam is six, pre Castiel/Dean
> 
>  
> 
> **The ninth installation of our Destiel Advent Calendar!**

“When’s Dad gonna come home? I’m starving,” Sam asked, exiting the bathroom after the shower Dean made him take. The six year old comes to a halt in front of his big brother, eyes wide and unintentionally mimicking those of a puppy. Dean swallows around the lump in his throat, looking down at his pajama-clad baby brother and wonders what lie he’s going to have to come up with this time. The truth of it is if Dad isn’t home now, he’s not going to be coming home for a few more days at least, that’s how it always is. Of course, Dad had only explained all of this to Dean, which left him to decide what to tell Sam. And man, is it always a hard choice. Every time Dean has to come up with some half-truth to cover up the fact that Dad is going to be spending another Christmas hunting down a monster instead of staying cooped up in another no-name motel with his sons, he feels the pit in his stomach open up a little bit more. Dad had promised them a few weeks back that this year would be different, that on Christmas they would do something as a family that didn’t involve the supernatural. Of course both him and Sam had been too eager to come up with ideas—all of which they share a mutual longing for, having watched happy families in Christmas movies opening presents underneath the Christmas tree together and having snowball fights in the backyard. 

But it didn’t happen. Dad’s busy fighting whatever and right now Dean isn’t opening presents or driving through neighborhoods lit up with Christmas lights, but racking his brains for some excuse to tell Sam. There’s a lead weight in his stomach because he’s so sick of disappointing him, so tired of watching his face fall every time Dad doesn’t keep a promise. He wants Dad to be there even if it’s just so he can see Sam’s eyes light up, that huge smile he so rarely gets now to show on his face. Dean bites at the inside of his cheek, desperately trying to think of at least one good thing he can give his baby brother for Christmas, even if it’s not the reassurance that Dad will be here with a warm dinner and arms loaded up with presents. That’s surely what Sam’s hoping for, and it crushes him that it won’t happen, not this year. The kid deserves nothing less. Dean had held onto a little hope too, but not near as tightly as Sam, for he’s older, and more realistic. “Sam…” Dean trails off, scrambling for something to say to lessen the blow. Sam looks at him expectantly, understanding slowly surfacing in those eyes—the kid is smart, always has been. Sometimes Dean wishes he wasn’t so. Disappointment pulls the corners of his mouth down as he nods, and Dean’s heart sinks and it feels so awful that he hates today, hates that it’s an excuse to let down Sam like this, to let down them both.

“I don’t think Dad’s gonna make it back for tonight, but hey! We can see if there are any Christmas movies on, and I saved a bag of popcorn for us to make!” Dean smiles, trying to inject as much positivity as he can into his voice. Sam gives him a tiny smile, a little of that happy gleam returning to his eyes, and he huffs, stepping forward and wrapping his little arms around Dean, hugging him as tight as he can and hiding his face against Dean’s stomach. “Thanks, Dean,” Sam mumbles against his stomach, voice muffled but grateful. Dean feels his heart swell in his chest, and he hugs Sam back, patting the top of his head as he pulls back and runs off to get comfortable on the couch in front of the tiny, staticky TV. Dean smiles for real now; just because Dad isn’t here doesn’t mean that Dean can’t give Sam a good Christmas, and have a good one himself. Afterall, eating popcorn and watching a Christmas movie seems like a pretty good way to spend it, at least to them. While Sam tries to get the TV to work, Dean heads into the little kitchenette unit and grabs the duffle bag from off the counter, the one that they keep all their groceries in. He unzips it and disappointment floods through him: it’s completely empty. He knows that he’d made sure to leave some food for a few more night in there, at least a few cans of soup and a couple pre-packaged snacks, including the microwave popcorn, but it’s all gone. 

“Do you know where the food is? Did you move it somewhere?” Dean calls, puzzled. Sam looks up from where he’s crouched in front of the TV set, messing with the buttons and antenna in an effort to get the TV to display an image that isn’t black and white fuzz.  
“I gave it to that lady that stopped by, remember?” Sam says, frowning. “You said it was okay to give her that food, ‘cuz it was extra.” Now Dean remembers—a nice old lady had been going door to door and asking if they had anything they could spare. Dean was pretty sure she had been homeless, and she looked so beaten-down and cold that he figured it wouldn’t hurt to give her some of their food, since they’d had plenty of extra, expecting Dad to be home today like he’d promised with a new supply for them. He’d been busy cleaning up the Coke he’d spilled on the floor with a wad of paper towels, so he’d given Sam the go-ahead and told him to give her a few of the snacks, because how could he tell Sam, who’d looked so hopeful to help, that they couldn’t share? A few snacks wouldn’t hurt, and he was no match for Sam’s puppy dog eyes. Only now does he realize Sam must’ve misheard and given her _all_ of their food. It makes sense, considering he’d thought Dad would be home with an actual dinner tonight. “Dean?”  
“Shoot, I forgot.” Dean rubs a hand through his hair, trying to think of what they’re going to do about dinner. He’s hungry enough that he wouldn’t complain about eating a tuna fish sandwich, which he hates, and he can only imagine Sam is even hungrier, considering the kid insisted he wasn’t hungry earlier when Dean had offered him lunch.

“We’ll just have a really big breakfast tomorrow,” Dean promises, feeling even worse when Sam nods and goes back to the TV, the slump of his tiny shoulders breaking his heart. It’s Christmas and they’re not even going to get any dinner, because Dean screwed up and Dad isn’t here. Dean sighs heavily, shoving the bag away and heading over to help Sam with the TV. He pats his shoulder, expertly fixing the antennae and pressing the right buttons from years of practice with getting finicky TVs to work, and then offers him a smile. “Now let’s see if there’s anything good on!” Dean tries to sound enthusiastic, guiding Sam over to the couch. He hates that Sam is going to have to go to sleep with an empty stomach on Christmas night, hates that he can’t do anything to fix it. But Dean is determined to still do whatever he can to make it a good Christmas, even with the gnawing in his belly. They curl up on the couch, Sam laying with his head in Dean’s lap and a ratty blanket thrown over him while Dean clicks through the channels, on the lookout for anything that looks Christmas related. When he passes a scene of a gaudy Christmas tree with presents underneath it, he clicks info and grins—it’s a Christmas movie, _It’s a Wonderful Life_. He hasn’t seen it before, and neither has Sam, so the two watch the rest of it together in comfortable silence, only disturbed by the occasional growl of their stomachs.

“Are angels like that real, Dean?” Sam asks through a yawn as the angel Clarence, an angel who looks like an old man, talks to George outside in the snow.  
“I dunno, Sammy. Could be,” Dean replies, stomach clenching hungrily as they head inside the house and the table is decked out with Christmas dinner. “Mom always believed in ‘em.” Dean remembers how she’d always tell him angels are watching over him as she put him to bed with a kiss on his forehead and a soft smile. He wishes with all his heart that she was still around to kiss him goodnight, to kiss Sam goodnight and talk to him about angels. But she isn’t, she’s gone, so Dean will do those things in her place, even though it’s not the same. 

 

Little did Dean know that Castiel was watching over him from Heaven, keeping an eye on his charge. The Righteous Man is watching a Christmas movie in a motel in Nebraska while their alcoholic father left them alone and without proper nourishment. Castiel was mocked endlessly by those few who would bother to notice his dismay at the pain Dean Winchester had to endure at such an early age. He was mocked for caring about a human, even one as valuable as the Righteous Man, but Castiel never paid them any mind. After all, they didn’t see what the little boy went through, caring for his brother fiercely in all circumstances, his heart good and pure and his soul positively radiant, unbroken despite what he suffered. This is the Righteous Man, who in exactly twenty years would be damned to Hell for selling his soul in exchange for his brother’s life. Castiel completely understands why he would give up such an incredible, precious, beautiful thing to save his brother, though the boy doesn’t understand how much of a treasure his soul truly is and won’t for quite awhile. Just the way he reassures Sam now indicates the boy’s devotion to his brother. In twenty years, Castiel will be pulling him from the fiery pits of Hell to finish his Father’s work. 

His job was just to watch over his charge and keep him safe, allowing each event to play itself out perfectly according to his Father’s will. He was not to interfere unless Dean was in danger, or if something was to attempt to thwart his Father’s plans for the Righteous Man, but Castiel can’t just watch as yet again Dean and his little brother are deprived of the Christmas they deserve, hungry and alone. Castiel’s first act of rebellion is small enough that no one should notice, but it should make a difference in the young boys’ lives that they could use, especially at this moment. Castiel’s heart breaks for them, for Dean, who tries all he can to take care of his brother. Dean does not have anyone to take care of him, and Castiel intends to do something about that, even if it is as small as what he’s about to do. Castiel sees this boy’s pain and _he_ cares, so he will do as his Father would want, and love his creation through this simple provision.

“I believe in them,” Sam hums, the light of the TV illuminating his face. “I bet there are angels out there right now, making Christmas miracles.” Dean laughs at the dreamy sound of Sam’s voice, mussing up his hair affectionately.  
“Like showing people the meaning of life?” Dean chuckles. Sam rolls his eyes and they watch the family sit down to eat at the table, dishing out the food.  
“I can almost smell the food.” Sam inhales deeply. “Ham and potatoes and bread and cookies!” Dean furrows his brow, inhaling as well, and realizes he can smell it too, as if the scent coming from the food on the table in the movie is real.  
“I smell it too, Sam…” Dean nudges Sam off his legs and stands up, looking around for the source of the scent. Maybe someone next door is making something like that, because it smells so real his stomach is nearly burning with hunger, his mouth watering. He goes over to the light switch and turns the light on, then gasps when he sees the tiny table in the kitchenette covered with tons of food. An entire Christmas dinner is laid out on the table top, complete with a roasted ham, a basket of bread rolls, a tray of fruits and vegetables, a bowl of mashed potatoes drenched in gravy, and a platter of frosted Christmas cookies cut into snowflake shapes, with blue and white sprinkles. “Sammy, look!” Dean shouts, running over to the spread of food and picking up a roll to make sure that it’s real and he’s not just dreaming. Sam joins him, eyes going wide and his face lighting up with joy at the sight of all this food. 

“Can we eat it?” Sam asks eagerly, bouncing up and down as he licks his lips.  
“I don’t know where it came from, Sammy,” Dean looks from Sam to the food, biting his lip as he internally debates whether he should scope out the rooms or just dig in. He’s absolutely famished, but if there’s anything Dean’s learned, it’s that you can never be too wary and cautious. Did someone sneak in here and leave it for them? Are they trying to lure him out? He knows he would’ve heard them, so how _did_ all this food get here?  
“I’m gonna check the rooms, okay? C’mon, stay behind me,” Dean instructs, grabbing the rifle his Dad keeps by the door and holding it at the ready. Sam grips the back of his shirt with one hand while Dean does a thorough search through each of the rooms, checking under beds and behind doors. He checks the windows and the locks on the door, but there is no sign of any creature lurking around to be found. “I dunno, Sammy. Still seems pretty suspicious.” Dean finally says, setting the rifle back in its spot and heading back to the table filled with food. Now that he’s more or less sure that there isn’t any danger, he wants all of that food even more.  
“I know! It’s from the angel, for our Christmas miracle!” Sam explains, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world to him. His little brother grabs a roll and takes a huge bite, chewing wolfishly as he takes a seat.  
“Yeah, guess so,” Dean agrees, unable and unwilling to resist the delicious temptation of the food before him. Maybe Mom was right, maybe angels are watching over them, Dean thinks as he dishes out Sam’s food before getting his own. 

From up above, Castiel smiles warmly, watching the happiness on both boys’ faces as they enjoy the meal together. Little did he know that exactly twenty years from now he would begin to fall for the Righteous Man, and continue to provide him with something to ease the pain of the world, and that something would be his unfaltering love.


End file.
